Jfltsstonarp’s  Call 

Y  SOUL  is  nQt  at  rest.  There 
comes  a  strange 

And  secret  whisper  to  my  spirit, 
like 

A  dream  of  night,  that  tells  me  I 
am  on 

Enchanted  ground.  Why  live  I  here  ?  The  vows 
Of  God  are  on  me,  and  I  may  not  stop 
To  play  with  shadows,  or  pluck  earthly  flowers, 
Till  I  my  work  have  done  and  rendered  up 
Account.  The  voice  of  my  departed  Lord, 

GO,  TEACH  ALL  NATIONS,  from  the  eastern 
world 

Comes  on  the  night  air,  and  awakes  my  ear. 

And  I  will  go.  I  may  not  longer  doubt 
To  give  up  friends  and  home,  and  idol  hopes, 
And  every  tender  tie  that  binds  my  heart 
To  thee,  my  country !  Why  should  I  regard 
Earth’s  little  store  of  borrowed  sweets?  I  sure 
Have  had  enough  of  sorrow  in  my  cup 
To  show  that  never  was  it  His  design 
Who  placed  me  here,  that  I  should  live  in  ease 
Or  drink  at  pleasure’s  fountain. 


Henceforth,  then, 

It  matters  not  if  storm  or  sunshine  be 
My  earthly  lot;  bitter  or  sweet  my  cup. 

I  only  pray,  God  fit  me  for  the  work ; 

God  make  me  holy  and  my  spirit  nerve 

For  the  stern  hour  of  strife !  Let  me  but  know 

There  is  an  Arm  unseen  that  holds  me  up, 

An  Eye  that  kindly  watches  all  my  path, 

Till  I  my  weary  pilgrimage  have  done, 

Let  me  but  know  I  have  a  Friend  that  waits 

To  welcome  me  to  glory,  and  I  joy 

To  tread  the  dark  and  death-fraught  wilderness. 

And  when  I  come  to  stretch  me  for  the  last, 

In  unattended  agony,  beneath 
The  cocoa’s  shade,  or  lift  my  dying  eyes 
From  Afric’s  burning  sands,  it  will  be  sweet 
That  I  have  toiled  for  other  worlds  than  this; 

I  know  I  shall  feel  happier  than  to  die 
On  softer  bed. 

And  if  I  should  reach  heaven ; 

If  one  that  hath  so  deeply,  darkly  sinned ; 

If  one  whom  ruin  and  revolt  have  held 
With  such  a  fearful  grasp ;  if  one  for  whom 
Satan  has  struggled  as  he  hath  for  me, 

Should  ever  reach  that  blessed  shore,  Oh,  how 
This  heart  will  flame  with  gratitude  and  love! 
And  through  the  ages  of  eternal  years, 

Thus  saved,  my  spirit  never  shall  repent 
That  toil  and  suffering  once  were  mine  below. 


T 


694-1  EO-2M,  1908.  PRICE  2  CENTS  A  COPY;  20  CENTS  A  DOZEN. 


